Zhang Yuanqi did not know what was happening as she came behind Zhang Ye. As she held her shoulders, her face was expressionless as she looked without blinking at his computer screen, “Who are they scolding?”
“Scolding me.” Zhang Ye said angrily.
Zhang Yuanqi’s eyelids twitched, “Meng Dongguo? Beijing Writers’ Association’s Leader? This person has quite a bit of reputation in the industry, right? Then what about Little Red Mushroom? She was the one who wrote fairy tales, right? Big Thunder? I have seen his poems. He is not anything in the country, but he is still quite famous in Beijing.” As the literature circle was encroaching into the entertainment industry, it was almost indivisible. As an S-list star in the industry, Zhang Yuanqi was quite aware of this. She was objective with their evaluations. Of course, only Zhang Yuanqi had the right to say this. If it was anyone else, no one would dare say who was not anything in the country. “Why are so many Beijing authors and poets scolding you? Are you very famous?”
Zhang Ye was still upset, “What do you mean, famous? I have only written a few poems. But who knows why they suddenly went crazy and started scolding me? My poems have problems? What an unfunny joke!”